I'm Keeping the Bunny: A Pretender Christmas Story
by Ginger6
Summary: An unapologetically sappy holiday shipper fic and my first crack at a hurt-comfort story.


Disclaimer: Not making any money here, no copyright infringement intended, yadda, yadda, yadda.  
  
I'm Keeping the Bunny: A Pretender Christmas Story  
  
By Ginger   
  
*Okay... I'm thinking so I must not be dead.*  
  
That was Parker's first thought after the car came to rest in a patch of shrubbery. She labored to draw a breath but her chest felt as though it were buried beneath a ton of bricks.  
  
*Can't breathe. Don't panic. Probably just got the wind knocked out of me.*  
  
She glanced at the deflating airbag and noticed a fair amount of blood spattered on it then reached up to feel around her head and face for a wound or wounds. For some reason, it didn't occur to her to look into either the rearview or side mirror. It was only after she touched her lip, felt moisture and drew her hand back that she registered the metallic taste in her mouth. Running her tongue along her top and bottom teeth she noted with considerable relief that they were all there.  
  
Assuring herself that she had probably just bitten her lip, she turned her attention to the rest of her body. Although each breath was excruciating, breathing was becoming a little easier. Her arms were working and, while the steering column now lying in her lap prevented her from moving her legs much, she was able to wiggle her toes.  
  
At that point she became aware of activity outside the car. She heard voices and the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. Parker had been vaguely aware of a house as she careened down an embankment before spinning out to face the direction from which she'd just come. She must have landed on the front lawn.  
  
Turning her head slowly to glance out her side window, she saw two people – a man and a woman – running from the house and toward her with horrified expressions on their faces. She couldn't see the other car, the white Pontiac driven by the lunatic who had taken a sharp curve at excessive speed and completely lost it, first hitting the outside guardrail then crossing the double line to hit her head on. She had seen it all and yet there had been no way to avoid it. It was as though time had slowed down and sped up at the same time, affording her full comprehension of what was happening but no option to prevent it.  
  
And in that instant – both fleeting and interminable – Parker had felt utterly, appallingly helpless.  
  
* * * *  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Sydney!" Jarod bellowed cheerily into the phone, smiling up at the Major, Emily, and Joseph, his clone, as they moved around the enormous Scotch pine to put the finishing touches on the tree the family had been decorating all afternoon.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Jarod," his mentor replied, sounding weary.  
  
"You don't sound very festive, Sydney. Is Miss Parker giving you a hard time?" he asked, grinning as he imagined his huntress stalking about and snapping orders to everyone around her. As usual, a short leather skirt and high heels featured prominently in the scene.  
  
"I'm afraid not, Jarod."  
  
The grin evaporated at the gravity of the older man's tone. In the silence that followed, Jarod grew visibly paler before wordlessly rising from his seat on the sofa and quickly stepping out of the room. Detecting his change in demeanor, his family exchanged looks of bemusement and concern.  
  
With a shrug the Major advised, "Whatever it is, he'll tell us when he's ready," then turned his attention back to a string of lights that had suddenly and inexplicably gone dark. Emily and Joseph both nodded in agreement and returned to what they were doing.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Mmm...yes?"  
  
Her voice was drowsy and soft, barely above a whisper, and lacked even a hint of its usual edge. This did nothing to quell his anxiety.  
  
"Are you alright?" he inquired tenderly – too tenderly – but his concern overrode any regard for the ground rules of their ongoing game of "I run and you chase."  
  
"You'll have to define 'alright' before I can answer that," she responded flatly.  
  
"I understand that your injuries are not serious."  
  
"So they tell me," she commented on a sigh then paused and added, "Ever spent forty minutes in an ambulance, strapped to a board, wearing an oxygen mask?"  
  
"No," he replied with a shudder. Jarod couldn't bear to be immobilized, a sentiment he knew that Miss Parker shared.  
  
"Of course," she continued with a raw, bitter chuckle. "It WOULD happen in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest hospital. Nothing like a forty minute joy ride! Can't move and speaking is barely an option, so that leaves thinking. Forty minutes of uninterrupted thinking. Longest forty minutes of my life and... I don't... think..."  
  
Jarod squeezed his eyes tightly shut and swallowed hard as he detected tears in her voice. It felt as though someone were twisting a knife in his chest, a thoroughly unpleasant sensation, although hardly uncommon since their time together on Carthis – that damned, cursed isle.  
  
"What?" he prodded gently.  
  
"I don't think I could survive another forty like it," she choked out.  
  
"Miss Parker... I..."  
  
"I need to rest now," she advised calmly, having managed to pull herself together in typical Parker fashion. "Thanks for the call."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Jarod."  
  
With that the connection went dead, leaving him frustrated and miserable. The year since Carthis had been a difficult one for her, having lost the man she'd known as her father all her life. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve; she was alone and in pain. She wouldn't be spending the holiday with her "father" or brother, not that either of them could do her a bit of good anyway. Broots and Debbie had left to visit his parents before the accident, and, as Sydney had reported in their earlier conversation, she'd insisted that he not, under any circumstances, alter his plans for spending the holidays with Michelle and Nicholas. She had gone so far as to warn Sydney that it would be pointless to defy her wishes because she would not let him into her house before the 2nd of January.  
  
"Stubborn as an ox," he muttered with a wistful smile. Pondering a moment, his expression changed to one of resolve and he added determinedly, "Well, so am I."  
  
* * * *  
  
The way their faces fell when he entered to room suggested that his face betrayed his intentions. He would find a way to make it up to them, and prayed that he could also find a way to make them understand.  
  
"I know this is only the second Christmas we've been able to be together," he began sheepishly. "But... someone... needs me."  
  
"Someone?" the Major asked, raising an eyebrow. "And this someone wouldn't happen to be a tall, blue-eyed brunette?"  
  
Joseph broke into an unconscious smile at the mention of the mysterious, beautiful woman he secretly hoped to meet again someday. Emily's expression remained even. Jarod colored slightly and replied,  
  
"I can't really explain it, Dad, not even to myself. But I have to do this."  
  
His father nodded, sighed, and abruptly changed the subject, commanding, "Come on, kids, we've got to clear away all these boxes to make room for the presents."  
  
After Jarod exited the room to prepare for his departure, Emily and Joseph again looked to the Major, who remarked, "I'm only just getting to know my own son, and I can't begin to guess what happened when they were trapped together on that island."  
  
"Aside from the near-miss with Mom, he won't talk about it," Emily piped in.  
  
"Exactly. What I DO know is that, in the year or so since, he has sent Zoe packing, spends as much time on the phone as off when he's here and, even when he's not on the phone, seems distracted, his mind is somewhere else."  
  
"No kidding," Joseph grumbled. "It's enough to give a person a complex, but what does it mean?"  
  
"What it means, my boy, is that Jarod is in love."  
  
"Oh, God," Emily groaned as she flopped onto the couch. "Of course, I KNEW it, but hearing someone say it out loud just makes it so REAL."  
  
"In love... but he and Zoe..." Joseph paused a moment, his large brown eyes growing impossibly, comically larger as he blurted, "MISS PARKER? Are you saying that he's IN LOVE with MISS PARKER?"  
  
"Oh, God," Emily repeated then leaned forward to press her face into the palms of her hands.  
  
"I'm afraid that's precisely what I'm saying."  
  
After a dramatic pause worthy of the finest actors of this or any age, the young man's face erupted in an absurdly wide, goofy grin followed, perhaps inevitably, by a hopeful:  
  
"Does that mean he'll be bringing her here?"  
  
Looking up, Emily glanced at Joseph then met her father's eyes knowingly and asked, "Do you think it could possibly be GENETIC?"  
  
"I don't know, Em," the Major replied with a sigh and a shake of his head. "But if there's one thing I've learned along the way, it's that anything is possible."  
  
* * * *  
  
The house appeared dark, except for a faint light coming from the den. Jarod hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, and whispered to his travel companion,  
  
"Well, Benjamin, there's no turning back now."  
  
His companion responded with a twitch of his ears, which Jarod acknowledged with a smile before scanning the area one last time for any sign of sweepers. Satisfied, he cautiously stepped out from the trees and crept toward the house.  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker shivered. She was cold but the idea of moving to do anything about it held little appeal, so she settled for wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself. There was no way she could build a proper fire, or do much else for that matter. Gazing forlornly at the bare tree then at the boxes of lights and ornaments beside it, she muttered, "Merry Christmas."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
For an instant she thought she'd imagined his voice, but then he stepped out of the shadows and she knew he was real. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to form words. Her chest felt heavy and constricted; she could barely breathe. For a few moments all she could do was blink up at him. But then he spoke again - asking if she was alright in that smooth, deep voice that was so familiar, such a constant in her life - and a strangled sob escaped her throat. She felt tears spill down her cheeks and then, as though of their own accord, her arms were rising from her sides, reaching.  
  
Jarod wasn't conscious of crossing the room, but must have moved the moment she raised her arms. In the blink of an eye he was by her side and lifting her ever so gently - as though she were a tiny bird with a broken wing - into his lap. Then he was rocking her, whispering into her hair,  
  
"What would I do? What would I do if you weren't in the world? How would I live?"  
  
For that was the crux of the matter, really.  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker lazily sipped at the hot cocoa Jarod had prepared for her, basking in the warmth of the roaring fire he'd built as she watched him hang ornaments on her Christmas tree with the same military precision he'd applied to stringing the lights and garland. She couldn't find a single ornament she'd have placed elsewhere and wondered how he could possibly know her so well.  
  
He stepped back and placed his hands on his hips. Looking over his shoulder at her, he asked, "Well? What do you think?"  
  
"Not bad," she replied with a shrug and a smile then winced, bringing her hand to her lip.  
  
Frowning, Jarod turned and leaned forward to tilt her chin up. Running his finger tenderly across the visible discoloration beneath her bottom lip, he observed,  
  
"You must have bitten down pretty hard. I can see the imprint of your teeth."  
  
Nodding, Parker pulled on her swollen and bruised lower lip to show him what the inside looked like. He winced but then offered encouragingly,  
  
"It could have been worse. It is not uncommon, under the circumstances, to bite clear through. If you rinse your mouth with salt water twice daily, it should heal within a week."  
  
"Thank you, doctor," she said, rolling her eyes then continuing, "If you think that's unsightly then you should see my breasts and belly; they're the color of raw liver - VERY attractive."  
  
"Why, Miss Parker, is that a proposition?" he joked, wagging his eyebrows.  
  
"You'd better hope for your sake that it's not," she replied on a sigh, her mind obviously wandering.  
  
Taking the seat beside her, Jarod took her hand in his and said, "I wish you would tell me about it. You started to on the phone but then..."  
  
Turning to look into his eyes, she smiled faintly and said, "There's nothing like the random brush with mortality to shake you up."  
  
To his raised eyebrow, she nodded and explained, "The operative word being 'random.' All those times that I've been shot at or nearly blown to kingdom come were not random - they had everything to do with who I am and what I do. If you think about it, the same could be said of my ulcer. And I suppose I've always figured that if I met my maker at the hands of the Centre, at least I'd go down fighting. But if I had died the day before yesterday - on that back road in the middle of nowhere - it would have been for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I guess the worst part of it is that I could find myself in that place again and there still won't be a damn thing I can do about it."  
  
"There are no guarantees for any of us, Parker. People are killed everyday by slipping in the shower."  
  
"I know, but I think that somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, I believed that if I died the way Momma did then it would give the life I've lived some sort of meaning. A banal, pointless death would only serve to underscore my banal, pointless life."  
  
"I can't believe I have to actually say this, but your life is neither banal nor pointless to the people who care about you. You should have heard Sydney's voice on the phone. And when I heard you had been in an accident... well... I can only imagine the look on my face. My family knew there was something wrong before I said a word."  
  
"YOUR FAMILY?" she blurted, wide-eyed and incredulous. "You left YOUR FAMILY to come here?"  
  
"They understand."  
  
Shaking her head, she demanded, "How could they POSSIBLY?"  
  
"Because they know I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of you, here, alone and injured, on Christmas. Because I think they see..."  
  
He held her fierce gaze for as long as he could then averted his eyes and announced, "I almost forgot, I have something for you," then rose quickly and stepped out of the room.  
  
* * * *  
  
"He's beautiful!" Parker exclaimed as she lifted the chocolate brown bunny from his cage.  
  
"He ought to be; Benjamin is a three-time state champion," Jarod explained, adding, "And he's a LOAN not a gift, since you gave away the last one."  
  
Rubbing her cheek against his soft fur she whispered, "Hello Benjamin," to the rabbit then to Jarod stated, "My life isn't exactly conducive to responsible pet ownership."  
  
The bunny looked content in her arms as she stroked and cuddled him. Who wouldn't, Jarod mused as he marveled at a rare demonstration of tenderness from the woman whose tenderness he'd always secretly yearned for. Well, until they were trapped together on Carthis and it ceased being a secret.  
  
Her eyes slipped closed, the tension in her forehead and shoulders visibly easing as she cradled the soft, warm bundle close to her. With a sigh, Jarod began calculating how much it would cost to persuade his father's neighbor to part with her prize-winning rabbit. Plenty to be sure, but if Parker expressed even the slightest interest in keeping Benjamin, there was no way in hell he'd deny her.  
  
"You two seem to be hitting it off," he observed after a time.  
  
"Thank you, Jarod," she sighed. "Always with me during the most difficult moments of my life."  
  
"I've been thinking a lot about that recently," he began as he moved toward the sofa. "And I realize that it's not something I can really take credit for." Shrugging, he took a seat beside her and added, "It's just the way it is; I am incapable of doing anything else."  
  
She nodded but did not open her eyes as he continued, "And if you can think of anything else I can do to make you feel better, please tell me. Well," he tacked on wryly. "Short of turning myself in to the Centre, that is."  
  
"That wouldn't make me feel better," she stated softly.  
  
Smiling he replied, "I know, but it sure is nice to hear you say it."  
  
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Parker muttered, "There is one thing..."  
  
"What?" he inquired warmly.  
  
"Don't feel obligated; I will completely understand if you refuse."  
  
"What?" he asked again.  
  
"It won't be pretty; raw liver is hardly a FLATTERING color."  
  
"Wha...?" was all he managed, his jaw dropping.  
  
* * * *  
  
*Have I finally lost my mind?*  
  
Standing in the bathroom, watching Jarod draw her bath, Parker was left to wonder. Even by the thoroughly warped standards of her life, this was unprecedented lunacy. Then again, what did she have to lose? She was in too much pain and too exhausted to pretend that she could handle it, that she didn't need help.  
  
She hadn't been able to wash properly in two days and lifting her arms above her head to shampoo her own hair was out of the question. She'd contemplated hiring a nurse but found the idea of paying a stranger to tend to her needs - even a kind, competent professional - intolerable. The, admittedly absurd, fact of the matter was that the only person on earth she could imagine helping her in this way was the man currently leaning over the tub to test the temperature of the water. Apparently satisfied, he straightened and turned to face her, his eyes expressing a combination of compassion and fear.  
  
"I think that'll do it," he announced then lowered his eyes and inquired diffidently, "What do you need me to do?"  
  
"Everything," came out before she realized what she was saying and Parker struggled to qualify, "I... I mean, I'll need help getting into the tub. I... I..." For crying out loud, she thought, get a grip. Swallowing hard, she continued, "I can't reach very well and I can't lift my arms over my head to wash my hair."  
  
Jarod nodded and asked, "Do you need help getting undressed?"  
  
She pondered a moment, recalling her previous attempts at changing her clothing, and replied awkwardly, "Just a little... with my... underwear."  
  
He nodded again, his eyes glued to the floor, then advised, "Come on then, before the water gets cold."  
  
She took two steps forward and, with trembling fingers, quickly undid the buttons to her pajama top before she could lose her nerve. Clutching the shirt closed for a moment, she said,  
  
"Jarod, I... I need to you look at me. I think... it will make it easier... like jumping into cold water instead of trying to ease your way in. You have to look sooner or later and the longer you wait, the harder it will be."  
  
He lifted his eyes to meet hers and, with a small smile, nodded once in assent. She opened the pajama top and let it slide off her shoulders, holding her breath as his gaze fell on her bare torso. He bit his lip, his forehead creasing with concern.  
  
"Pretty bad, huh?" she remarked ruefully as she dropped her head to inspect her severely bruised chest and abdomen.  
  
"What are you taking for the pain?" he inquired, his tone oozing compassion.  
  
"Nothing. The Vicodin they gave me in the ER just made me woozy and Scotch tastes a lot better."  
  
"Parker," he chided, meeting her eyes reproachfully.  
  
"I'm not a big pill-taker," she explained with a shrug.  
  
"But your ulcer..."  
  
"Is the least of my problems right now," she insisted, unceremoniously slipping her fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She pushed them down to about mid-thigh, taking her panties along for good measure, and noted to herself how remarkably at ease she felt under the circumstances.  
  
"I need your help," she said softly.  
  
"Okay," he replied equally softly then crouched down in front of her. "Lean forward a little," he instructed. "And place your hands on my shoulders. I don't want you to lose your balance."  
  
She did as he asked, and he proceeded to gently pull down her pajama bottoms and underwear, being extra careful in the vicinity of her badly bruised knees.  
  
"There, that's it," he coaxed, gazing up at her in a manner that made her feel warm, safe, and not the least bit self-conscious.  
  
He stood, smiled and nodded at the tub then took her arm in one hand while slipping his other around her body to gently grasp her waist. Jarod's hold was tender but firm as he helped Parker climb into the tub then sink slowly into the water. He winced when she did and grimaced when she hissed in pain, letting go only when she was settled comfortably in the warm, soothing water.  
  
"There, just soak a while," he whispered into her hair then pressed his lips to her temple before adding, "I'll be back in a few minutes."  
  
She closed her eyes and nodded. He picked up her discarded pajamas and underwear then quietly slipped out of the bathroom. Entering her bedroom, Jarod leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and emitted a heavy sigh. Even battered and bruised, Parker was incomprehensibly beautiful. Her body was lean and muscular but with sleek, elegant curves in all the right places. Her skin felt exquisite to the touch, so very soft.  
  
He felt guilty; it was as if her pain and misfortune were his reward. While these were hardly the circumstances under which he'd have chosen to see Miss Parker naked, he reveled in the opportunity to convey all the tenderness he felt toward her. This probably ranked among the worst holidays of her life and, yet, he knew there wasn't anyplace on earth that he'd rather be spending Christmas Eve. Sighing, he opened his eyes and headed toward her walk-in closet to toss her clothing in the hamper.  
  
* * * *  
  
Jarod froze and asked, "Am I hurting you?"  
  
She shook her head slowly. The moan that had escaped her lips as he deftly massaged her scalp was not one of discomfort. She sighed in approbation as he resumed his task, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the tension in her head and neck as he shampooed her hair. Parker smiled, recalling how as a child she loved to feel her mother's hands in her hair.  
  
As his long, masculine fingers continued to work their magic, she noted wryly what a different experience this was. Despite the intimacy of the situation, she hadn't anticipated the prospect of sexual arousal, either on her part because she felt so lousy, or his because she looked at least as bad as she felt. Pretty unrealistic, in retrospect, since just the feel of his intense gaze upon her had never failed to raise goosebumps.  
  
And that was before she had experienced the revelation of Jarod's hands on her body, lovingly lathering and rinsing the places she couldn't reach. His touch was heartbreakingly tender and respectful. He did not leer, nor did he seize the opportunity to steal a cheap thrill. His only goal appeared to be relieving her pain, a fact which left her wanting nothing more than to feel his lips everywhere his hands had been.  
  
So there, she thought, you've finally admitted it.  
  
Another thing Parker was simply too tired and worn down to bother with was lying to herself. She'd stopped the moment she reached out for him and sure as hell wasn't up to starting again, at least not for a while.  
  
"All done," he cooed softly into her ear. "Time to rinse."  
  
Such a nice voice, she mused as he lifted a pitcher of water over her head and poured, gently threading his fingers through her hair to work out the suds. He repeated the process and she leaned into him, permitting herself to enjoy his closeness. His affection for her was something she had neither invited nor earned and would never begin to understand, but it was Christmas Eve and, for once in her sorry life, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
* * * *  
  
Swathed in her robe, Parker sat on the edge of her bed and awaited Jarod's return. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled his attentiveness: how he'd carefully wrapped the towel around her body and lifted her out of the tub, the way he'd gently towel-dried her hair. The boy really was too much.  
  
"Well, Benjamin is settled in for the night," he announced as he entered the bedroom. "Now I think it's time you do the same. Is there anything else I can do for you first?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, meeting his eyes. "You can show me YOUR bruises."  
  
"But I don't have any," he said, his brow knit in confusion.  
  
"Like hell you don't," she remarked pointedly then let the comment hang in the air for a beat or two before standing and moving around the bed. Bypassing the fresh pajamas he'd laid out for her, she peeled off her robe and climbed into bed, naked.  
  
Thunderstruck, Jarod blinked a few times and muttered, "Miss Parker?"  
  
"When I would get hurt as a little girl, Momma would always kiss the boo-boo and it immediately felt better." Cocking her head, she continued, "Now I wonder..."  
  
"Parker," he warned, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"What?" she asked innocently.  
  
"You know what," he challenged through a tight jaw.  
  
"You did ask if there was anything else you could do and I'm saying there is. You can take off your clothes and come to bed."  
  
Placing his hands on his hips, he frowned and responded chillily, "While that's certainly a tempting offer, I wouldn't want to be accused later on of exploiting a moment of weakness."  
  
A subdued smile played on her lips. It was the first time all evening that he'd demonstrated any regard for self-preservation. His attention and energy had been focused solely on her needs and feelings. Now that it was clear that she was going to be okay, he was free to question her intentions, and to take steps to insulate himself from the pain and disappointment of having her reject him again.  
  
Neither surprising nor unreasonable, but she would have none of it.  
  
"Well, Jarod," she began on a sigh. "I suppose you COULD punish me for my behavior in Glasgow by refusing, and I could hardly argue based on logic, not to mention years if history. You are, of course, welcome to any bedroom in the house. But based on the way you've touched me today, and the way you've looked at me..." She paused, smiled wistfully and shook her head then continued, "Forever... I know that isn't what you want."  
  
"And what do you want?" he asked softly, his eyes conveying a mixture of apprehension, vulnerability and just a glimmer of hope.  
  
"I've already told you; I want you here."  
  
She pulled back the sheet and patted the spot beside her then blinked up at him expectantly. There was a long moment of silence, followed an audible sigh and then,  
  
"This is so typical of you: I give an inch and you take a mile." The tail end of his remark was muffled as he lifted his shirt over his head.   
  
"A mile, huh?" she quipped, easing further under the covers without taking her eyes off him. "We'll see about that."  
  
* * * *  
  
"Leave the beside lamp on," Parker called out lazily. "You're pretty."  
  
Jarod blushed and lowered his eyes as he slipped into bed beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. She looked so small and delicate amidst the pillows and blankets, her current physical condition foremost in his mind. It would be torture to lie beside her and not be able to touch her in ways he'd always dreamed of - sweet torture, but torture nevertheless.  
  
Turning on his side to face her, he propped his head on one elbow and tenderly stroked her cheek, observing with a wry smile, "It just figures that I finally end up in bed with you under these conditions."  
  
"These conditions?" she repeated sleepily, her eyes drifting closed.  
  
"With no chance of anything 'interesting' happening."  
  
She opened her eyes and inquired, "What makes you think that nothing 'interesting' will happen?"  
  
"Parker, you are bruised from head to toe."  
  
"Yeah," she challenged, her eyes sparking with mischief as she wriggled sideways to be closer to him. "And you're 'allegedly' a genius. Now prove it."  
  
A shiver of excitement shot down his spine. He propped himself up on both arms to hover over her, looked deeply into her eyes and said, "I don't want to cause you any pain."  
  
"Then you won't," she insisted in a tone that reminded him of a little girl who once could talk him into just about anything.  
  
"I... don't think..." he began, not knowing entirely where he was going with it.  
  
Shaking her head to silence him, her voice was full of conviction as she demanded, "I want you to kiss it better, Jarod. I know you can."  
  
He raised no further protest.  
  
* * * *  
  
It began with a kiss, the mere brushing of lips against lips as he took special care to avoid putting pressure on her injured mouth. It wasn't how she'd imagined a grown-up kiss from Jarod but it was exquisite neverthless. He nuzzled her cheek and tickled her with his impossibly long, thick eyelashes. His soft chuff of delight when she slipped her tongue between her lips was perhaps the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard, and when he responded by touching the tip of his tongue to the tip of hers, it was achingly sweet.  
  
And then, as requested, he proceeded to kiss every single boo-boo, applying only the lightest, feathery kisses to her knees, hips, belly and breasts. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, being kissed by angels. He covered the uninjured areas as well, kissing every inch of her that he could reach. She felt adored. When she stroked his cheek and smiled at him, the look in his eyes almost made her cry.  
  
When they made love she did cry. She couldn't help it. Heedless of his own need, he put forth considerable time and effort to make her comfortable, propping her up with pillows and taking extra care to protect her sore knees while not placing any weight on her battered torso. It wasn't spectacular sex; in fact, the rather complex logistics made it a little awkward. And, yet, to be with someone who knew every facet of Parker, and wanted her anyway, was so overwhelming that it brought tears to her eyes.  
  
Jarod was initially horrified, afraid that he was hurting her, and stopped. When she assured him that he was not, he asked, "Then why are you crying?"  
  
"Because it feels like heaven," she responded then pressed her lips to his forehead.  
  
He began moving again and whispered her name. She asked him to repeat it and he did, over and over again. And when it was over he cradled her gently in his arms, finding the most comfortable position for her before reaching over the switch off the light.  
  
"Merry Christmas," he uttered softly into her hair.  
  
"Merry Christmas," she replied drowsily before drifting off feeling warm, relaxed and, for the first time in two days, pain-free.  
  
* * * *  
  
Parker awoke sensing that she was alone in bed. Without opening her eyes she slid her arm across the sheet to confirm it and frowned. It was unreasonable to expect him to be there. Her house was hardly what one would call a safe distance from the Centre. Besides, she imagined his family was eagerly awaiting his return. Indeed, the rational thing to do was to slip out before dawn, and Jarod was a paragon of rationality. It was Christmas Morning and she felt bereft.  
  
"Sleep well?"  
  
Blinking her eyes open in surprise, Parker found Jarod seated in a chair in a far corner of the room. He smiled warmly at her and repeated, "Did you sleep well? You appeared to be out like a light."  
  
She propped herself up as much as she could and, in a voice raspy with sleep, replied, "I slept fine. What are you doing over there?"  
  
"Thinking."  
  
"At this hour?"  
  
"What's wrong with this hour?" Jarod inquired looking bemused. "It's 9:30," he chirped then added, "I've put the coffee on."  
  
"Well?" Parker prodded, shaking her head. "You planning to share what it is you're thinking about?"  
  
"Yes," he beamed. "I am."  
  
"Uh-oh," she muttered then flopped back in bed.  
  
"I thought you might say that," he quipped then paused, sighed and continued in a more serious tone, "I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about last night."  
  
"We talked about a lot of things last night," she sighed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Yes and no," he said. "We talked about life and death but the fundamental topic was us."  
  
"Was it?" she asked, propping herself up to look at him again.  
  
"Well, not in so many words... as usual. When it comes to this particular topic, we're both masters of prevarication. Our actions have always spoken for us, and they did again last night. Although, this time, I REALLY liked what I heard." He grinned at her; she smirked in reply.  
  
"Anyway," he went on. "I woke up at daybreak with you in my arms and sort of panicked."  
  
"Did you?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"It can be a little overwhelming to finally attain the unattainable, but I think it had more to do with recent events. There were a few things I needed to think through so I got up and checked on Benjamin then came back up here to think and watch you sleep."  
  
"And?"  
  
"As I said last night, there are no guarantees. You could indeed find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time again someday, and so could I. Who knows, maybe I will eventually meet my end at the hands of the Centre; maybe we both will. I could lose my balance in the shower next week."  
  
"Very encouraging, Jarod," Parker commented. "Is there a point to this?"  
  
"Yes, and I'm just getting to it. The fact is, none of us knows how much time we have but whether I live another 40 days or 40 years, I am now positively certain how I want to live. I want to live with you."  
  
She opened her mouth to speak but he raised a hand and advised, "I'm not through yet. I know it won't be easy and that it's going to require a considerable amount of planning and no small amount of danger. There are people whose safety we need to secure - Sydney, Broots, Angelo. Oh, and we need to find your baby brother because he deserves nothing less than to be raised by the incredible woman who brought him into the world. It's a tall order, I know, but we make quite a formidible team. Besides, once we've gotten out those we care about, it won't be necessary to pull our punches."  
  
He paused to let his words sink in then went on, "Life on the run won't be easy, and I can't guarantee that we'll find all the answers we've been searching for. I don't know if I will ever find my mother."  
  
His expression fell for a moment then brightened as he continued, "But, regardless of the circumstances, I know that life will be eminently more tolerable if I can wake up every morning the way I woke up today."  
  
"So," he explained earnestly. "Here's what we're going to do: You're going to recuperate while I make some preparations. Once you're fully recovered and as soon as it's safe for all concerned, we'll make our move. Oh," he added with an impish grin. "Once you're feeling better we'll have to build in a solid week, at least, to lock ourselves in a room with a large bed. After last night, I very much look forward to being free to follow my baser instincts. Well, what do you think? And before you answer, I think it only fair to warn you that I am NOT taking 'no' for an answer, and that I am prepared to spend the rest of the day, the week, or however long it takes, arguing with you."  
  
Having made his pitch, Jarod expelled a deep breath. Parker remained quiet for what seemed an eternity, her expression unreadable until, lifting her chin defiantly and narrowing her eyes, she demanded,  
  
"One condition, Jarod."  
  
"Yes?" he replied with a hopeful smile, happiness radiating from every cell in his body.  
  
"I'm keeping the bunny."  
  
# # # #  
  
Author's Note: Wishing everyone a joyful, peaceful holiday season and a safe, happy and healthy 2004! 


End file.
